


The Harder You Hold On

by mydeira, Sadbhyl



Series: Responsible Adults (aka, The Menageaverse) [77]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-08 04:35:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/757108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydeira/pseuds/mydeira, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sadbhyl/pseuds/Sadbhyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A semi-quiet night is disrupted by the start of a war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Harder You Hold On

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published September 1, 2005
> 
> Spoilers through “Never Leave Me". Where’d the smut go? Huh? What’s with all this plot? This also went through a few versions. But once I got started in the right direction, pieces fell into place. This is no easy season to take on at all. Thank you to [](http://sadbhyl.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://sadbhyl.livejournal.com/)**sadbhyl** for support, ass kicking, and helping to make everything shiny.

“I used to lead a fairly normal life, you know,” Joyce said as she lay back against Ethan on the couch, listening to the sounds of the house. “But somehow my home has become a prison. There’s a young man who doesn’t look capable of hurting a fly, let alone doing anything apocalyptic, upstairs being interrogated by Xander and Anya. Unfortunately, I know first hand that isn’t the case. And then there’s the vampire chained up in my basement because he seems to be losing his mind and trying to feed off humans again.”

Ethan’s hand stroked soothingly through her hair. “You would be bored out of your mind if it were any other way.”

Turning her head, she glared back at him.

He smirked. “This is life on the Hellmouth, my dear. If you haven’t learned that after living here for what, seven years? Then again,” he shrugged. “It was near impossible living with you this summer when all you had to worry about were the bills, your gallery, and other mundane concerns.”

Joyce snorted. “I didn’t hear any complaints from you at the time.”

“I,” he kissed her lightly, “had more than enough to keep me occupied.”

“Did you really?” She smiled as she shifted in his arms, facing him completely and peering down at him.

Ethan eyed her speculatively. “You are aware that we aren’t alone in this house.”

She nodded, making herself more comfortable against him, pleased to find that part of Ethan didn’t seem to mind not being alone. “That has never bothered you,” Joyce said, her voice taking on a seductive note.

His expression didn’t change. “Not alone in the sense that any one of your eldest’s delightful young friends could walk in at any minute.”

“As long as you don’t do anything more than kiss me, that isn’t an issue,” she pointed out.

“Because a kiss never leads to anything more,” he said slyly, drawing her down for a slow, easy kiss.

Joyce lost herself in his gentle manipulations. Ethan always knew exactly what she needed. She just had to forget the craziness going on under her roof for a little while. She let out a soft moan as his hand slipped under her shirt, lightly caressing her lower back. Ever since Rupert had taken off again, things had been so hectic that Joyce and Ethan really hadn’t had the chance to be alone together. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, as he had been staying at the house full time for almost a week now, but with all that had been going on, all they really had in mind when they went to bed at night was a good night’s sleep.

“See, Xander, Joyce and Ethan don’t seem to have any trouble making out in a house full of people.” Anya’s voice was like cold water, causing Joyce to sit up quickly and move away from Ethan. The girl smiled pleasantly. “Please don’t stop on our account. At least someone still knows what to do with a girl.”

Xander was blushing furiously. “Ahn, this is really not the time or the place,” he said quietly, trying to pull her out of the room.

“Alexander Harris,” she turned on him, “you can’t tell me you weren’t as turned on as I was playing ‘good cop, bad cop’ with that little twerp.”

The boy seemed to snap. “Making out is one thing, but you wanted to have sex in Mrs. Summers’ bathroom!” Immediately, Xander realized what he said and looked at Joyce apologetically. “I-I didn’t mean . . . I . . .”

It was very difficult not to laugh herself with Ethan doing a very poor job of hiding his own mirth, but somehow Joyce managed. “It’s alright, Xander. I appreciate your restraint.”

“I bet you they’ve had sex in there lots of times without anyone knowing,” Anya said, looking to Joyce for confirmation.

Joyce felt her cheeks grow warm.

“If you two are down here,” Ethan said smoothly, sitting up, “who is keeping an eye on the young man upstairs?”

“Dawn is,” Anya replied nonplused.

“B-but don’t worry,” Xander jumped in, “he’s tied so tight to the chair he can barely twitch. If he weren’t still unconscious. But if he does wake up, no worries. We wouldn’t have left her alone with him otherwise. He’s perfectly harm—”

His words were cut off as the front door burst inward. Ethan pushed Joyce off the couch just as something crashed through the window. She registered the kitchen door giving way as a circle of menacing men in brown robes began to close ranks on them. Sharp knives and no eyes. What was going—

One of the men lunged at her. Before she could react, he was thrown back against the wall by some unseen force.

“Arm yourself,” Ethan barked the short command, palms raised outward in preparation for the next attack.

She picked up a statuette from the coffee table, the action a blur around her. Xander was wrestling with one of the men while Anya was trying to look for an opening to hit his attacker. Joyce struck out, her statuette colliding with the side of another aggressor’s head, the force of the blow reverberating up her arm. She heard Dawn’s shrill shriek and only to see Buffy racing through the melee in the living room and up the stairs.

Ethan managed to take out another one of the robed men when, just as suddenly as they had appeared, the men fled.

Joyce felt her knees give way, but Ethan caught her, holding her up.

“What just happened?” she asked him weakly.

He was frowning, eyes darting around the room, surveying the scene. “They found what they were looking for,” was all he said.

 

 

The living room was a disaster, as was most of the rest of the house. The robed men had found what they were looking for. In the confusion of the attack, they had taken Spike from the house. Even Buffy had fallen for it, thinking that their target was Andrew.

There was too much to take in. Joyce found it very difficult to make sense of any of it at the moment. So she focused on the one thing that never took much effort: cleaning. At the moment she was alone in the living room, everyone else scattered throughout the house. And that was fine by her.

The television was at an odd angle, but otherwise appeared undamaged. She bent down to switch it on. When the picture appeared, confirming that it was indeed still in working order, she was about to turn it off when the news report captured her attention.

Joyce stood transfixed in front of the television screen. It would figure that one of the few things not destroyed by the attack of the hooded figures that evening would only bring more devastation.

“It’s already started,” she murmured to herself, unable to look away from the smoldering ruins of a once imposing building the camera was permanently fixed on. A tattered British flag was visible atop a pile of rubble. The shock was still too new for the reality to sink in.

“Windows are done in, the door’s busted, but at least the telly still works,” Ethan said cheerfully as he drew up next to her. “Christ, another bombing. That’s all they ever seem to show these days.”

“Yes, another bombing,” Joyce echoed deadly.

“And this is why I don’t bother to wa— Bloody fuck. Someone took out the Council.” The expletive was barely audible, yet that managed to cut through the fog that had settled around her.

She opened her mouth to say something and instead let out a choked sob. A moment later, the world swam in liquid colors and Joyce swore she could smell the acrid smoke from half a world away.

“He wasn’t there,” Ethan denied.

Blinking her eyes furiously, trying to focus on the world around her, Joyce turned to him. His face was ashen and lips a fine white line of tension, the screen now seemed to have him completely in its thrall. She swallowed and took a deep breath, trying to fight down the panic that had already begun to rise. “He—h-he,” she stopped, forcing herself to be calm. “He said he was going to go there, t-to get texts.”

Ethan’s head quickly shook from side to side, as much to shake off her words it seemed as to disagree. “No, Rupert wasn’t there. He’s been there and gone long before this.” His voice was hollow, lifeless.

She wished she could believe that, she really did. “He’s dead, Ethan. That bitch was right,” she said sorrowfully.

Ethan gripped her upper arms vise-like, seeming to struggle with not shaking her. “Don’t you dare think that,” he ordered. His eyes were dark and fierce.

“You can’t ignore the timing, Ethan! It’s too perfect,” she said, her anger rising.

“That’s exactly what It wants you to think, Joyce!” His fingers dug in. “I don’t know what we’re dealing with, but if It’s playing mind games with us, It’s not all-powerful.” He paused, and when he spoke again, it was with icy calm. “And Rupert’s dead when I see the body. Until that day, I’m not thinking anything different. Nor are you.”

“Ethan,” she tried.

“Joyce, no.” With that he reached over and turned the television off. “And we tell no one that Rupert may have been there.”

“They know he’s over there, Buffy will—”

“The Slayer is going to be too busy trying to find out what that thing wants with Spike. So are the others. They don’t need to worry over nothing.”

“He was there, Ethan,” she protested.

“Joyce, don’t fight me on this.” His eyes grew darker.

Deep down, she knew he was right. They didn’t know anything for certain.

“I won’t say anything,” she agreed finally.

His grip loosened and he pulled her to him, holding her close. “He’s fine, Joyce. Let the dust settle. He’ll be back.”

Joyce couldn’t take any comfort in his words. Not just because of the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, but the fact that Ethan’s words didn’t hold much conviction. It seemed that he was as uncertain of Rupert’s well-being as she was.

At that moment Joyce would have given anything to have Rupert walk to through the door. What were they going to do without him?


End file.
